A Friend in Need
by Jon'ic Recheio
Summary: Oh f’cryin’ out loud! He had to call again didn’t he? Just to piss him off for sure, either that or put poor ol’ Jack through paperwork hell. Or, Gibbs asks for another favor... NCISSG1 Sequel to I Need a Favor.


Okay...apparently this is going to turn into a oneshot crossover series. I just finished writing this and with any luck I'll have another one by the end of the day. In this installment, Jack lets Gibbs loose on poor Agent Barrett...

* * *

Jack let his forehead hit the surface of his desk with an audible thump. Oh f'cryin' out loud! He had to call again didn't he? Just to piss him off for sure, either that or put poor ol' Jack through paperwork hell. At the moment, O'Neill wasn't quite sure which, and really, it could just as easily be both. You could never tell with Gibbs…

"Jack?" Gibbs' voice came through the speaker on the phone. "Are you okay? I heard a thump."

"It's just my brains impacting a hard surface." Jack muttered sarcastically. "Nothing to worry about but the impending paperwork disaster you're trying to dump on me, LJ."

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah, well, better you than me."

"That doesn't help your case much, jarhead." Jack's reply was partly muffled by his desk. He picked his head up and let drop again with another thump for good measure.

"That's the fastest way to a concussion, flyboy." Gibbs shot back, quite used to their name calling game. "So, are you gonna help me or not, Jack?"

"Oh, hell, why not?" Jack's sarcastic tone was back in place. "I'll only have to go up against the most anal agency in DC. LJ, gimme a break! I'm not going to get into a pissing match with the NID!"

"Oh, come off it, O'Neill!" Gibbs growled down the phone. "I know one their agents has information on who killed that sailor, now, if you wouldn't mind, get me in there!"

"Fine." Jack sighed and tacked on an eye roll, even though Gibbs couldn't see it through the phone. O'Neill sat up and fished around in the piles of paper that cluttered his desk. A few muttered curses and three stacks of paper on the floor later O'Neill finally found the phone number he'd been searching for. "Okay, here. You got a pen and paper handy?"

"Yeah, go ahead." Gibbs answered after doing a little paper shuffling of his own.

"555-4393. Attention: Special Agent Malcolm Barrett." Jack grinned. He suddenly realized that the NID was about to get what was coming to them. Gibbs was about to tear them a new one. "Tell him Jack O'Neill gave you this number. He'll bitch and moan at first, but he'll do what you ask."

"Thanks, Jack." Gibbs promptly hung up after that.

Jack grinned. Take that you stupid bureaucratic morons! Next up, the IOA…

* * *

Special Agent Malcolm Barrett, NID, currently hated Major General Jack O'Neill's guts with every fiber of his being. The man had sent him the most notorious agent in all of the agencies, one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Never mind the fact that the man was NCIS, that wasn't the issue. He'd heard horror stories from his friends in the CIA and FBI, but he hadn't put much faith in them. Oh, lordy, was hindsight 20/20! Gibbs had made his life living hell until he'd revealed the name of the agent who had been tailing Seaman Gaffer.

And then, to top it off, the guy had the nerve to call the NID on the Stargate Program! Barrett had felt like he'd swallowed a water balloon and had no idea how to dislodge it from his throat. After a long awkward moment of Barrett doing a fair imitation of a fish, the NID agent managed an oh-so-intelligent response.

"Uh, what?" Barrett had croaked out around the metaphorical water balloon.

"You heard me." Gibbs had reiterated.

"That's classified." Barrett had sat up straighter in his seat. The water balloon was dislodged. "Now, if you don't mind Agent Gibbs, I think this meeting is over."

"Yeah," Gibbs then pushed up out his chair and walked to the door. He'd paused with his hand on the door knob. He then turned and gave Barrett a smiled that had sent chills down the younger man's spine. "Good day, Agent Barrett."

Gibbs had opened the door, stepped out and shut it with a soft snick that had been louder than a gun shot to Barrett's poor ears at the time. Barrett simply gulped, shook his head to clear it, then tried in vain to focus on his work for the rest of the day, well the parts of it that weren't spent cursing out Jack O'Neill…

* * *

Ha ha! Poor Barrett. Yeah, I might be doing one on the IOA, but I'm not sure. I think the next one will be Jack asking Gibbs...but, who knows? Review!


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